


A Start of a New Life

by La_Emmy_Ollandese



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: #Drownout2020, Azran Legacy Spoilers, Child Neglect, Family, Flogging, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, In a way, Nightmares, Victorian prisons and orphanages, Violence against Children, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 15,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25038016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Emmy_Ollandese/pseuds/La_Emmy_Ollandese
Summary: A young orphaned Layton is accused of a crime he didn't commit. With no one to defend him he is sent to one of the country's most notorious prisons. When he can't take it anymore he decides to escape and start a new life. Would he be able to find someone who is prepared to take him in?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. At the docks

**Author's Note:**

> I want to dedicate this work to my friends who have always been there for each other when one of us needed advise or to blow off steam. Despite never having met in real life I feel that I can safely call you that.  
> Thank you for putting up with me for nearly a year.
> 
> This fanfiction is based on an idea that I had in my head since after I played Pandora's Box and Lost Future wasn't out yet. Due to playing the rest of the games over the years this idea evolved, became an AU and changed radically after playing Miracle Mask and Azran Legacy. Perhaps that I may write down my original idea once.
> 
> Originally this fic wasn't meant for publication but due to #drownout2020 I decided to do it anyway. 
> 
> I hope you like this. 
> 
> La Emmy Ollandese (alias EmmyinHoogland)
> 
> I don't own the Professor Layton series, Level-5 does. This is merely a fanwork.

Chapter 1.

It was a cold November night. Hoarfrost was already forming on the brown leaves on the ground. A rat scurried away as five silhouettes walked between the shadows of the dockland’s warehouses.

“ Are you sure about this?” asked the smallest one. Being about thirteen years of age he was the youngest of the lot. He nervously ran his fingers through his reddish-brown hair.

“You’re thinkin’ too much” Said the leader of the group. “All you ‘ave to do is keepin’ an eye out for the pigs, while we burgle the warehouse. Just go to your spot and keep on the lookout ‘til you hear our signal.” With that the lad was sent off.

“ Right Alfie and Rodney will be wai’in’ in the alley across while Fred and I wait for the bloke. We’ll show ’im not to mess with us. “

This being said, the men quickly dispersed themselves preying on their target from the shadows . 

The young lad shivered while trying to stay warm. Ugh, why did he sign up for this? He had never trusted this gang. He was picked for the job as he enjoyed a good reputation as lookout. He had agreed, it was either this or sleeping rough and eating out of bins. The thought of going back to the orphanage didn’t even cross his mind. ‘Hortense’s loving and caring home for orphaned children’. Loving and caring? Pah! A dead donkey would be more loving than Mrs Hortense. Not that the orphanage would take him back now, not now he was growing old enough to stand on his own feet.

He sighed, his breath formed a cloud in the cold autumn night. The memory of someone cuddling him crossed his mind. He remembered being tucked in and a woman’s voice softly lulling him to sleep. It was one of the few memories left of a warmer place. If only…  
A bloodcurdling scream snapped him out of his thoughts. Bloody Hell! What was that? Did the gang run into someone during their burglary?  
He thought over this for a moment. This gang likely wouldn’t have any trouble getting rid of eyewitnesses. The idea of some poor sod accidently running into the gang wouldn’t go off his mind. Perhaps he should help him before it was too late.  
Deciding to help he darted off in the direction the sound came from.

Upon arriving on the scene he saw the others talking while quickly going through a motionless man’s pockets before running off in different directions.  
Oh God surely they didn’t… He didn’t hesitate for a moment and ran to the man on the ground. The man was wearing gaudy clothes. His forehead was covered in blood and he showed signs of being strangled, the used rope was still hanging around his neck. The lad immediately untied the rope to give the man the opportunity to breath.

“Sir, can you hear me?” the young man whispered hoarsely, feeling frantically for a pulse. Yes, the man was still alive, but needed medical attention. Now were could he find a doctor so quickly?  
Suddenly a bright light blinded the lad. His dark eyes grew wide with fear when he recognised the all too familiar silhouettes.

“Well, well, look what we have here.”

***

*Clang, clang.*  
A ringing sound as if someone was slamming on a fence went through his head. “Ugh.” 

“Wake up sleepyhead ,your trial is due today.”

He slowly opened his eyes to look at the barred door were a policeman had just woken him up. It was two nights since the incident and both nights he barely had any sleep. If the drunks in the other police cells didn’t keep him from sleeping his own thoughts surely did.  
A sense of dreadful loneliness came over him. He was familiar with police encounters, but those times he was locked up with other street urchins. Now he sat alone in a cell, bars being the only things to separate him from drunks and vagrants in the others.  
Exposed to their taunting and jeering the only thing he could do was curl himself up in the corner most far away from them.  
Footsteps came near. A key turned in the rusty lock, letting the three policemen in who would escort him to the courthouse.

***

As he entered the courtroom he couldn’t resist a loud gasp. Last time he saw the court from inside it was much… emptier. It made sense since no one would actually have been interested in a chain trial of street boys being tried for minor crimes. But now at least half of the seats were taken. Somewhat shaky he took place in the defendant seat. Why…?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
> 
> When I played the first games, I thought Layton may have been taken in by Dr Schrader at a young age.  
> Due to the events in MM and AL I was wondering what Layton's life could have looked like if his brother was taken instead of him. This fanfiction is the result of combining both ideas.


	2. The trial

“Ladies and Gentleman, all rise.” Everyone stood up as the judge took his seat. 

“This court is now in session for the trial of Leppardo Rainer.”   
Ugh, he hated that name. Why did the orphanage have to change his first name too? Why didn’t they just wrote down his real name Hershel instead of changing it all?

“Prosecutor Wandsworth, your opening statement please.”

“Thank you Your Honour. In it was in the night of the 12th to the 13th of November. Two policemen were patrolling the docks when at about 11:45pm they heard a someone scream. They immediately went looking in the direction of the screaming. This led them to a shady backstreet near Dublin Warf. It was here they found the victim with the defendant hunched over him. The victim was being mugged since the defendant appeared to be searching him. Needless to say, the police officers arrested him caught in the act .”

“My word. So the defendant was caught red handed. Do we have any details about the victim and his assailant?”

“We do Your Honour. The victim in this case is William Brokes a bookmaker from Hackney. He won’t be able to testify in this case as he is still in hospital.”

“Of what nature are the injuries inflicted on the victim, if I may ask?”

“Mr Brokes suffered light trauma to his head. Probably inflicted by being bashed on the head with a blunt object like a truncheon. The other injury is the most important as this provides decisive evidence in this case.”

“Well? don’t make the court curious prosecutor Wandsworth, what is this injury you are talking about?”

“The victim’s neck shows signs of being strangled with some kind of cord. A cord which was found on the scene, still in the hands of the defendant!”

Shocked gasps raised from the crowd.

“Order, order. Prosecutor Wandsworth, do we know for sure this evidence is not circumstantial?”

“We are sure the defendant used the rope as hemp was found under his fingernails. This material matched the material of the rope.”

Oh no, this must have happened when he undid the rope that was strangling the man.

“In other words prosecutor, we can confirm the defendant to be the garrotter. But what about his motive?”

“Easy Your Honour, it was either for the money or a personal attack. The first being most likely as the victim was a successful bookmaker. He did, in fact, make quite some money during last races. The defendant might have learned about this near the racecourse as he was caught there before picking pockets. The defendant was penniless at the moment as he recently ran away from the orphanage.”

This made the lad snap. “That’s not true! I was indeed penniless because of that.” He barked, clutching the rail before him. “But I tried to earn some money by acting as a lookout for a band of burglars. I tried to remove the rope from the man’s neck, not to….”

“Order, order. Defendant, I ask you to remain silent until asked to speak. Otherwise I have to keep you in contempt of court.  
Anyway, prosecutor, you were talking about an orphanage?”

“Indeed your Honour, the defendant is registered as an inhabitant of Hortense’s home for orphans. I already prepared the Headmistress of the orphanage to speak in front of the Court.”

“Splendid idea, Wandsworth. The Court hereby calls forward the Headmistress of Hortense’s orphanage.”

A cold wind blew through the courtroom as an imposing woman made her way to the witness stand. The boy looked at her in anguish. If she was going to testify…

“ Madam, as I understand you are the Headmistress of the orphanage. Can you identify the defendant?” asked the Judge.

“You bet I can Your Honour. This rascal here is Leppardo Rainer, an orphan in our care. He’s been nothing but trouble since he set his first foot inside.”

The lad clenched his jaw in anger.

“Please enlighten us, Madam.”

“Well, first of all his documents were incomplete when he arrived with us, so we were forced to give him a new name. But he refused to listen to this from the very beginning.  
Secondly, he is incredibly messy, causing him to loose important items and he makes his corner of the dorm look like a pigsty by leaving books lie around.”

Well. There was no denying in that. However he had good reasons to leave books lying about as he preferred to read multiple ones at the time while investigating the interesting stuff he found outside.

“Not to mention, your Honour, that according to his teacher he shows a general lack of interest and keeps being distracted by all sort of things. Nor does he ever finish his work.”

Perhaps because it was all too easy! They kept doing the same stuff over and over again. He already understood everything after one or two lessons. Why didn’t they understand that he did this out of boredom? 

The Judge scratched his wig. “ In other words our defendant is quite a lazy rebel”

“And ungrateful Your Honour. He keeps running off and getting in trouble with the police for crimes as shoplifting and pickpocketing. Ruining our good name after all we did for him. We saw him being sent off to a borstal school a few times, not that it changed his wicked behaviour. He…”

That’s enough madam. I think the court has heard enough about the defendant to come to a conclusion.”

“One moment your honour.”

“What is it Wandsworth?”

I think both the witness and the court are forgetting that the mugging of Mr Brokes isn’t the only accusation considering Mr Rainer that the court is handling today. “

The prosecutor turned around to face his witness. “I think you might want to tell us what happened when Mr Rainer ran off.”

The woman seemed to understand what the man was talking about and thought over it for a moment. Then she spoke;

“I’m terribly sorry Your Honour, you see my mind is still a bit fuzzy from what happened a week ago. You see the night he ran off I was robbed in my own office. The mugger bashed me on the head from behind. Before I passed out I had a clear view of his features as he walked to the safe where I kept the money of the orphanage. It was clearly Leppardo who mugged me.”

So that was how it was going to be played. If the judge believed her she would never have to take him in again and wouldn’t be held responsible for anything he did. 

“It seems we have a similar modus operandi, Your Honour. Both cases were robberies in which the victim was bashed on the head.”

She had most likely been drinking again.

“I see, there is a clear charge against the defendant and the severity of his crimes has only increased since last time. It seems the defendant didn’t learn anything from last time he was sent to borstal.  
I think we reached the time for our verdict, does the defendant have anything to say about this?”

“It wasn’t me, I tried to help the victim! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”

“Mr Rainer is hereby found guilty of assaulting and mugging Mr Brokes of Hackney and stealing money in a similar act from the orphanage that took care of him.   
I hereby sentence Leppardo Rainer to seven years in prison. The sentence will be executed when the criminal reaches the age of fourteen within a few months. Until then he will be spent his time in a borstal. This court is now adjourned.”

With this the judge let down his gavel. The sound echoed in the young man’s head. Seven…years? How, Why?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any Ace Attorney references are completely intended.


	3. Borstal

This time the borstal wasn’t easy on him. On arriving the Head immediately assigned him to the strictest ward where he spent his time in solitude. The only exception being when he was sent to class. He was wise enough to comply with the teacher tough. He still felt the lines of the cane on his bottom from last time he tried to argue. 

His birthday went by unnoticed. Not that he minded, he never had his birthday celebrated.  
On a cold January morning he was called to the Head’s office. As he entered the room he saw that the Head was accompanied by two uniformed men.

“Sit down Rainer. Today is the 24th of January , which means you turned fourteen earlier this month. As you know this means that you reached the age to complete your sentence. These two gentlemen here will escort you to Black Fell Prison.”

B-Black F-Fell? The Head couldn’t be serious, couldn’t he? Surely he wasn’t that bad of a case.

“Sir, I- I’m afraid you made a mistake. I…”

“Silence Rainer. You haven’t learned of your earlier convictions. As for your sentence, the judge probably decided this to be the only way you may learn.   
Your belongings have already been gathered. Gentlemen, if you please.”

The prison guards walked up to the boy and bound his wrists together. He stared at his bonds with a bewildered look. This couldn’t be happening.  
As the guards reached out to take him by his arms he jolted backwards.

“You’re making a mistake. I am not dangerous!.” He struggled to break free from their grasps. “Please…”

“Safe your energy for later lad.” said one of the guards. “You are going to need it for the journey.”

The lad wriggled trying to break free as he was dragged out of the office. Tears filled his dark eyes as they darted around looking for a way to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any constructive criticism is more than welcome.


	4. Run!

The carriage wheels rattled over London’s cobbled streets. The lad sighed and looked outside. He recognised most of the streets the wagon was passing through. These streets were his home after countless escapes from the orphanage.  
He shuddered thinking about that place. The matron had taken an immediate dislike of him when he first arrived through the wrought iron gates. She had an imposing appearance and a booming voice. As a result the four year old hid behind the legs of the civil servant who brought him there. 

“So this is the child you were talking about. Anything we need to know?” she snapped.

“This boy was found abandoned in a house near Malton-le-Dale. According to the inhabitants of the nearby village the rest of the family vanished without a trace two months before. Some locals managed to tell us that a brother might have been adopted earlier. However due to the town hall’s archives having been ransacked this and other details cannot be verified.”

“Well, let’s ask the only one who knows.” The woman turned to the boy “Tell us, what’s your name?”

The boy mumbled something inaudible, clutching the man’s leg.

“Speak up” barked the large woman.

“Mummy said I should not speak to strangers.” chirruped the little boy. “When can I go home?”

“You live here now. And from now on I want you to speak with two words. Understood?”

“I already see that he will have a good upbringing. I hereby leave him in your trusty hands. Many thanks madam.”

With that the man had left, leaving the boy in care of the orphanage.

The carriage rode down Flatstone Street. Hah, he remembered this place. He and the other street urchins would start a fight in front of one of the shops and deliberately bump into the its window. The shop owner would come rushing out to stop the boys from damaging it. One of the boys would sneak in behind the owner’s back and steal something out of the shop. A grin appeared on his face as he recalled his old gang.   
They had welcomed him amongst them as if he was one of them. The gang provided safety, food and places to sleep. Not only that they had also taught him skills that would become handy when he joined them in their mischief. With their help he had become a skilful pickpocket and when they discovered his talents an excellent lookout.   
He sighed, if he had only managed to find the gang that fateful night the whole incident with the man would have been prevented. He knew he would probably never see the others again now he went behind bars for seven years.   
That is if he allows his captors to put him there in the first place. He inspected his bonds. A piece of rope that wasn’t even secured to anything. There was something he could try…

“Woah.“ The carriage came to a stop. One of the guards stood up to open the door. This was his chance! Just as the guard unlocked the door he shot out of it. He rolled over the pavement, scrambled on his feet and darted off. Shocked bystanders jumped out of his way. 

*Fweeet* Bugger, now the police was after him too. His eyes shot around. There! An alleyway. He could use the backstreets to…  
Suddenly he tripped over something hard between his legs. He smacked down and felt his hands scrape over the pavement. *Tonk* Something hit him on the head. As he looked up to see what hit him he was hit for the second time, right on the forehead.   
“Ow”... Through his tears he saw a man raising a stick ready to strike again. Before the man could swing the stick down a hand grabbed his wrist.

“ We already have him under control, Sir. Hit him one more time and I’ll have to charge you for assault.” 

A moustachioed policeman stood there. Holding the collar of the prisoner in one hand and the arm of a disgruntled man in the other.

“I expected some more gratitude officer, as I stopped this delinquent for you.” spoke the man, while adjusting his square glasses on his big nose. 

“I could have easily stopped him myself, thank you.” answered the policeman. He pulled the criminal on his feet. 

The man was about to say something but was stopped by his wife. “Come Bill, we are not going in discussion with plebs who do not appreciate our help.” With that the couple walked away.

“Bloody posh people always think they can do the job better than the police with their fancy diplomas.” He turned to the two prison officers. “I’d keep a good eye on him. This is a feisty one.”

The two guards swapped the rope for a pair of handcuffs on a chain and led the prisoner into the station. The lad didn’t resist. He’d just ruined his last chance of freedom.


	5. The journey

Luckily for the young prisoner they got their own cubicle in the train. At least no one could stare at him now. His head throbbed. The man outside the station had hit him hard enough to cause a bump on his forehead.  
He looked out of the window. The landscape outside had changed drastically from an urban environment at first to wintery meadows and leafless forests. And now a bleak moor landscape appeared outside of the train windows. Big towers of rock loomed over herds of sheep which were grazing on the fell. Interesting, he had never seen something like this before. The lad turned around to ask one of the guards. 

“Excuse me Sir, what are those things outside?”

“Those are Black Fell’s famous tors.” Answered the guard, “Their origin is a mystery. However, there are quite some local legends surrounding them.”

“Can you tell one?” asked the lad, his eyes bright with excitement. For a brief moment the man and the boy both forgot about their roles as the guard told the story.

“It is believed that many of them were people who got cursed in some way or another. One of the best tales surrounds the group we just passed. According to this tale these stones were once a legion of Roman soldiers. This legion was sent by the emperor to stop the people of this area from worshipping a Celtic deity as they refused to worship the emperor as one of their gods. The soldiers marched through the area burning every village they came through to the ground. That is until they reached a village where no one was to be found.”

“How come, did the villagers disappear in thin air?”

“That is what they thought at first. But they quickly discovered that the townspeople had been warned. They tracked down their traces and found them in another village. The Romans drove the poor townspeople and their cattle into the mires. But they did not know that the druids witnessed their actions. It was too late for the druids to safe their people. However, they managed to lay a curse on the Romans. The soldiers froze were they stood, when they heard those curses in the druids’ language. And slowly they started to turn into stone. It is said” told the guard, “that the spirits of the Romans can be seen on the moor under a full moon.”

The lad sat there in deep thought. That was quite a tale. He wondered if there could be any truth in it. Then the conductor announced the upcoming station. The guard looked at his prisoner in pity.

“Next station will be ours.”


	6. Prison

The train stopped at a small station of a village. A prison wagon was waiting in front of it. They got in the wagon and took off.

After an hour the lad felt the horse slow down. He looked outside through the bars at the front. An enormous building rose in front of him. The wagon was let through the gates and the lad saw the heavy doors close behind him.

As he was led inside he caught sight of barking guard dogs held by warders in black and navy blue uniforms. The lad shuddered. Why did the sight of the uniformed men bother him so much?

He was pushed in the back  
“Walk on we haven’t got all day.”

Inside mugshots were taken and his fingerprints recorded along with other distinguishing features. After this the was fastened to a chair. He was just about to ask what was going on when he heard the snipping sound of scissors behind his head. A lock of auburn hair fell on the ground.  
They were cutting his hair… A lump formed in his throat. He was so proud of his hair.  
The man who was on the job rummaged with his hand through his hair as he spoke. “Such a shame, it’s a nice mop you got there.”

The lad swallowed. His throat felt tighter.

“Don’t worry it will grow back. You can even ask permission to grow it during the last months of your sentence.”

He was not sure how that would help.

After the hairdresser was done only a small tuff of hair was left which reached from the middle of his head to his forelock.  
When the haircut was over he was urged to take a cold shower. After that he was given his uniform  
“Put that on and go to the next room for the rest of your registration.”

Another room with a camera. He cocked his eyebrow.  
“Why would you want to take another? You already have a picture of me, haven’t you?”

“Shut it. This picture will show what you look like now, for the unlikely case you escape.”

He sighed and took place in front of the wall. He guessed he looked quite different now, he wondered if his family would have recognised him if they were still around.  
Two bright flashes of the camera and the job was done. The head warden turned to him and spoke:

“From now on you go as prisoner 109HZ and you do not speak until asked to do so, understood?”

He nodded and stared at the ground as he was chained. A heavy iron ball was fastened around his ankle.

Walking proved to be difficult wearing all these chains, to top it off he had to drag that cannonball with him.

“It will be easier if you pick that thing up.”

“Thank you, Sir.”  
He picked the ball up. Walking was indeed easier now.  
With the ball resting in one arm he was marched towards his own wing. As he walked past the other cells he started to feel uncomfortable. Every step he took seemed to resonate between the walls.  
The party suddenly stopped in front of one of the doors. The warder turned the key to open the door.

“Here you go, here is your cosy loft.”

The lad looked inside, a shiver ran over his spine. They couldn’t put him in that cell couldn’t they?

“No!.” He leapt backwards against his guards.  
The guards grabbed his arms and started to drag him inside. He tried to dig his heels in the ground.

“Don’t put me in there.” He begged.

To no avail. The guards just lifted him up and carried him inside.

“Please, I beg you.” His voice was raw of emotion. The heavy door was slammed shut with a bang. The loud echo resonated through the corridor. He banged with his fists on the door. “Please let me out, I don’t belong here.” He sat down against the door and pulled up his knees. Sitting like that he started to sob till he cried himself to sleep.


	7. A plan is formed

The first week in prison was terrible. The boy was locked up in a cell for most of the day. When he had his hour of fresh air he would be chained and have to wear a cap that hid his face. 

After the observation period was over he was transferred to a more open ward. Here had to work for most hours of the day. One evening he returned to his cell, exhausted, when he noticed a rat slipping away between two tiles. Too tired to think about this further he fell asleep, it had to come tomorrow.

The next day was a Sunday. After spending the morning in the church banks he finally had some time of his own. Perhaps he could use this time to find out where those rats came from. If a rat had enough space to move from one cell to another perhaps there was a hollow space he could use. If not, well at least he might be able to stop those pests from entering his cell.  
The lad carefully examined every tile. There… in one corner a piece of tile was missing. He carefully listened if a guard was coming. When the coast was clear he got his nails under the tile and lifted it. Under the tile was a small space not much bigger than a cigars box.   
Hmm not too much space to hide anything but still. He carefully placed the tile back while pondering about any possible use for this hiding place. It wouldn’t be any use for bigger stuff but still large enough for any small items such as keys. He inspected every nook and cranny of the cell. What about an escape through the window? He climbed the wall to get a brief glimpse. No, that was not going to be it. Not if he didn’t want to get shot on sight by the guards patrolling the opposite wall. Digging a tunnel was more something out of a boy’s book and would only result in a visit to the neighbour downstairs. Escaping during work and church hours was as good as impossible leaving only his cell door as a viable option.  
He walked up to the door. A steel plate was fixed on his side of the door separating him from the key hole and the lock’s inside. It was fixed on with screws, if he could find a way to remove that plate he could make attempts to pick that lock. He took a closer look at the lock. Hmm, the slits of the screws were only a little thinner than the end of the metal spoons used for his food. Slowly an idea started to rise up in him, what if… he scraped the spoon over the ground to thin its end. The only problem was that the spoons were taken in after his meal, meaning he had to steal one somewhere. Now where could he find a spoon?  
He pondered about this for a while. He could always try to keep one by hiding it under the tile, risky but worth it.


	8. Rebelling

Due to his age and small physique he was appointed to oakum picking. A hard and boring job consisting of twisting out old ropes. The smallest strands were the worst as they often made his fingers bleed. To make matters worse one of the supervising guards had it in for him. Whenever he took a short break or looked around the hall a bit the man would shout at him and bully him into continuing.   
In the first week Hershel noticed how the nails that were used by some prisoners to make the work lighter made for excellent tools for picking a lock. Whenever he spotted lost nails lying under the benches he would pretend to be tying his shoelaces and slip them in his shoe. It made walking uncomfortable, but that didn’t bother him at all.

He absolutely hated the work he was forced to do, it was all so mind numbing and senseless.  
One freezing day the work became too much. That day his fingers were already aching from the cold. He felt the nasty strands of oakum cutting into his fingers. He had to stop, he couldn’t work any further. With a hiss he put his fingers in his armpits to warm them.

“Get back to your work!” the guard barked. 

“I can’t, my fingers hurt… please, let me warm them.”

“They will warm if you keep them busy. Now get on with it!”

“No!”

The guard cracked his whip. No use the boy didn’t even flinch. Other guards arrived at the table.

“Trouble?”

“109HZ refuses to work.”

“Get on with it mate, otherwise we’ll have to record it as misconduct.”

“I simply do not care. What do you do with that stuff anyway?”

The other prisoners stopped working and looked in the direction of the argument. Whispers rose from the crowd. 

“You see that? That small one is rebelling… Blimey, he’s got some gut … 2 shilling that this is going to end messy.”

“For the last time, get back to your work! “ bellowed the first guard his face now red with anger.

“You can go to hell with your old ropes. I’m not touching them again.”

“Bovey, ignore it. He is not going to listen.” said one of the guards trying to hush the situation. “You’d better just report it and let the prison board decide.”

“Fine!” The guard sneered, “but I am not going to allow him to get away with this.”


	9. Rage

At first he had counted himself lucky when he heard that he had to scrub the hallways as punishment. It provided a unique chance to get an overview of the prison’s layout and any possible obstacles for when he would make an escape attempt. It wasn’t for too long until he started to experience the down sides of this task. In retrospect he had to work in a very uncomfortable position from on his knees. As for the brush used, it wasn’t as painful as the oakum strands were, but it did make his skin a bit raw which wasn’t too good of a combination with the soapy water.

At least he could take some breaks now. He sat up and swept his forehead. The hard work made him sweat despite the cold. He fiddled with the chain around his ankle and looked back at the part of the hall he had just brushed. Oddly enough he felt a bit proud of the work he had done. Time to continue.  
When he was brushing the floor the troublesome guard came walking down the hallway. The man had been deliberately making the work harder for the boy by accidently spilling coffee or dropping pieces of sandwiches the lad could only dream of. This time too he going to bully the boy. He walked up next to him and spoke with an authoritative voice;

“you didn’t scrub hard enough, I still see filth.”

“I cleaned every part of the floor behind me, Sir. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Then how come that every time I walk here I see some filth from the gutter?“ He kicked the bucket so a large splash landed in the boy’s face. Laughing he turned around to walk back. The lad grabbed the bucket and dunked it on the guard’s head. The guard blew on his whistle calling back up. They wrestled the boy down avoiding his kicks and stomps. A red haze fell over the lad’s vision. He made an attempt to fly at the man’s throat, but the guards held him down.  
The guard he had kicked took his whip and lashed out at the lad, two, three times The boy cried out in pain, and his struggle became more frantic. 

“ Bloody hell Bovey, Cut that out at once, you’re only making matters worse. Go to the staff room will ya.”

The guards put the boy in a straightjacket and brought him to a special cell. There they fastened him to the cell wall. The boy was still livid. He kept trashing around and screaming in frustration.

“Just you wait ‘till I grow up. I’ll… I’ll” But the threats were all in vain as the prison officers had already left.

The fruitless struggling left the lad exhausted. Panting heavily he lowered himself down on his knees. At last he started to calm down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for what I am doing to Hershel, things will get better for him later.


	10. Trouble

His act of rebellion wasn’t without consequences. He was lead in front of the prison board where he was questioned about his involvement in the earlier events.

“So you decided to ignore your orders because you were chilly?”

“My fingers hurt from the cold sir, I just wanted to warm them.”

“You were quoted to have said the following: ‘You can go to Hell with your old ropes, I am not touching them again.’, meaning you did not want to continue your labour, is that correct?”

“I think I said that sir, but it was not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean by that? A few moments earlier you stated that you didn’t care about your work and that you were willing to face the consequences regarding your refusal to co-operate, correct?”

“I- I didn’t mean that, I…”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I meant I wouldn’t care if I was reported for taking a small break. I would have continued the rest of my work once my fingers stopped hurting that much.”

“You refused to listen to your superiors and when you were serving your punishment for that you attacked the one who had tried to correct you. You will be charged with assault of a superior. Do you have anything to say about this?”

The lad nervously clutched the fabric of his uniform, he didn’t like where this was going.

“It was in defence, sir. He kept tormenting me.”

“We would have taken care of him if he had attacked you, but in this situation you acted as the aggressor.”

“But I…”

“Quiet, you are not asked anything. If we take your criminal history in account we see you had little problem attacking people earlier. That is after all the reason you were sent here. Perhaps you will learn if you feel the consequences directly. The prison board hereby issues 35 lashes to be given to prisoner 109HZ. The lashes will be given tomorrow after a doctor has confirmed you’re fit enough to receive them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you are cutting your chapters up in order to have more drown out material.


	11. Flogged

The lad suffered a restless night. The worrying had kept him from sleeping well until the early hours when he finally fell asleep he started dreaming.

He dreamt about playing in the snow with another boy. They were building a snowman together with a woman who had been watching over them. Their faces were vague, yet familiar and trusted.

A man came walking down the road between the snow covered fields. The woman gestured the boys to be quiet and sneaked up behind the man with a hand full of snow. When she was just behind the man she snatched off his cap, filled it with the snow and placed it back on his head. The man yelped, but laughed when he saw his wife and children giggling at him. He made a snowball and threw it at his family who scattered around and ducked behind the stone walls that surrounded the fields.

Later the boys were sitting wrapped up in a blanket near the fireplace with some hot chocolate. Tired of the day the youngest fell asleep against his brother’s shoulder.

Next he was woken up by the barking of dogs and banging at the front door. Scared he clutched his bother when his mother came storming in. “Hershel, hide under the bed with your brother now and stay quiet!” The boys hid under the bed and the mother arranged some boxes and other items so the boys stayed hidden. When she ran to the adjacent room men in navy blue uniforms caught her and dragged her away. The boys witnessed everything through an opening between two boxes. He wanted to cry out for her, but his brother pressed his hand against his younger brother’s mouth.  
When the man slammed the front door shut behind them the boy wrestled himself free from his brother weight and darted to the window.  
From the window he could see that his parents were forced to enter a carriage. His mother wrestled herself free but didn’t get far before the men set the dogs on her. 

Just when the dogs got her he woke up, hot tears still streaming along his face.  
He stared at the beam of light that came in through the barred window. It was already morning. Still shaken from his dream he took the jug and splashed some water in his face to wash off the dried tears. At least he was completely woken up now. With the rest of the water he quickly washed himself.  
When he was done he heard footsteps approaching through the hallway. He listened. The footsteps came closer and stopped outside of his cell. A key was turned and three uniformed men stepped in accompanied by a man in a lab coat.  
This must be the doctor they talked about yesterday.  
The doctor placed down his suitcase and took several instruments from it. He walked up to the lad and shone a light in one of his eyes while he held it open with his other hand. The doctor nodded in approval.

“ Eyes look all right, kneel down and open your mouth.”

The lad complied and the doctor peered inside and turned the lad’s head around to study him more. 

“Good strong teeth and healthy gums, at least you took care of that. Now, take off your shirt.”

He took the shirt off. A shiver ran over his spine when he felt the cold metal of a stethoscope pressed against his skin. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. The doctor listened at several locations and placed the stethoscope at his back.

“Take a deep breath in…. and out. And another in, and out.”

The lad took a few deep breaths

“Right,” said the doctor as he took the stethoscope out of his ears. “I couldn’t find anything that would stop me from declaring him fit. The only issue is how much he will be able to take, but that can be discussed at the moment.”

The boy started to put his shirt back on but was stopped.

“If you don’t put it on it means you don’t have to take it off again.”

He was in for a shock when he entered the room. Apart from the officer he had fought the guard from the train was standing there too. The boy wished he had never looked at the object on the table in front of him as there lay… He tried to look away but his eyes were drawn towards the terrifying item on the table.

The doctor walked up to the guards and discussed something with the men. The prison director looked the boy straight in his eyes when he addressed him.  
“Do you understand why you are here, 109HZ?” The boy looked away from his cold eyes and nodded.  
“According to the doctor who examined you, you are fit enough to take the punishment. Do you have anything to say?”

The boy felt his throat become tighter “please don’t hurt me. I will behave, I swear.” He begged with a broken voice. To no avail he was strapped to the device with his hands above his head. A leather belt was secured around his waist to protect his vital organs from the blows. 

“Sir, I think the boy is too young to take this There must be a better way to correct him”, interrupted the man from the train.

“Are you questioning my orders, Widecombe? You are free to look for another employer if you don’t agree with how this prison works.“ 

The guard mumbled something inaudible, walked up to the table and took hold of the whip. When he turned around so he faced the boy and awaited his orders, the boy started to beg again.

“Please sir, I won’t do it again. Why doesn’t anyone believe me!?” No one responded. The boy swallowed and tried to keep his composure, he wouldn’t be able to take it. He knew he wouldn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The nightmare scene was so difficult to write. When I finally got it on paper I felt so sorry for what I've done to Hersh and his family.


	12. Broken

Mr Widecombe was shocked when he discovered that the prisoner that was due to be flogged that morning was the boy from the train. He had read up on the report about the incident, but never suspected him to behave like this. Something must have happened that wasn’t in the report. The boy’s screams and desperate pleas still echoed through his head. He had been so relieved when after fifteen lashes the boy finally passed out so the flogging had to be stopped. 

He turned the key in the lock and entered the cell. There the boy lay with his lacerated back facing the door. Widecombe hesitated as he wasn’t sure how to address him. He slowly walked up to the boy and kneeled down beside him. The boy stirred.

“Go away! Didn’t you torment me enough?”

Widecombe reached out for the boy and softly spoke “Leppardo, that is your name, isn’t it?”  
The boy made a violent move but was stopped by the pain “It isn’t” he grimaced “It never was and never will be.”

The guard flinched when his eyes met the boy’s. The dark brown eyes that had shone so bright in the train had grown dull and pitch black with a beginning profound hatred that would consume him in the end.

“I really didn’t want to do this, but I need my job to care for my little girl”

He was answered with a silence. 

“ You remind me a lot of her, she is intelligent and loves stories as much as you.”

This elicited a shiver from the boy.

“You are not a bad person, I know you aren’t. I don’t believe you did what you were convicted for. You don’t belong here, you’re not like the other brutes that are locked up in this prison.”

He reached out to the boy again and this time he didn’t resist being touched but still flinched. 

“I know that you are hiding things under a loose tile” the lad grew restless, he was found out! “I told no one of it, I didn’t want you to get in trouble.”

The lad still kept quiet.

“I don’t want you to suffer like this. I have a spare key here, it belongs to the doors that lead to the courtyard, I’ll hide it under the tile. Make sure you start a new life. Find an honest job or make sure someone takes you in as a apprentice, you are bright enough for that. Just make sure you stay off the streets.”

The guard lifted up the tile and placed the key under it. When he walked back to the door he knelt down next to the boy. 

“Is there anything you need for your escape plan?”

The boy was silent for a moment and then spoke; “a spoon.”


	13. Determination.

He was in too much pain to work, so he spent most of his day in the cell again. When he didn’t sleep due to the sleeping pills that were smuggled into his cell he would secretly scrape the back end of the spoon over the bottom of the tile it was hidden under. Steadily he gained the strength to sit upright and walk trough his cell again. It was a lot of pain but he had to be able to run and climb if he were to escape. Despite his body’s protests he exercised his muscles.

By the time he could finally walk again and climb the walls of his cell without too much pain. Mr Widecomb knocked on his cell door and entered.   
With a sad face he spoke the following words “They want to do it tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter, but I felt that this short chapter was needed to explain some things.


	14. The Great Escape

Tonight was the big night. If he didn’t escape today he would suffer the cat o’nine over his back again. He should avoid being caught at all costs, otherwise he had to face the consequences.   
The lad had focused on the layout of the prison during his cleaning job. He knew exactly what the best escape route was. And figuring out the guards walking pattern proved not to be so difficult either. As for tools for the lock, he had everything he needed after receiving the extra spoon from the man from the train.

Judging by the stand of the moon it was about an hour after lights-out. The prison warden had passed his cell about a minute or so. The boy slipped of his hard bed and crouched to the door. First he had to get the plate off that hid the lock for the prisoner.   
He carefully undid the plate with the help of the back of the spoon and laid it down beside him. Now came the more delicate part. For his escape he had chosen the moment that the moon shone right in his cell. It would make picking the lock a lot easier, especially on a bright night as this one. Still he knew this also meant that it would be harder to remain unseen.  
He peered inside the lock’s mechanism, and started fumbling around with the nails. The fools, did they really think that such a simple lock could keep him in? After manipulating some cogs he managed to reach the core of the lock were its vital parts were located. Now, how was he going to…  
Suddenly a loud clang shot him out of his focus. He peaked over his shoulder. Phew, it was just a rat that had knocked over the carafe holding his bowl.  
Where was he? Right, the core of the lock. The spring needed to be activated in order to unlock the door. Meaning he had to flip over the cog to its left somehow… Ha! He gave one of the nails a sharp turn. With a satisfying click the spring was activated and the door unlocked.  
With the help of the nails and the back of the spoon he quickly got rid of the ball and chain around his ankle. Excellent, everything was going to plan.  
He pushed the door slightly open and glanced around. No one to be seen. He sneaked outside. Oil lamps illuminated the prison ward. The lad silently made his way to the stairway careful not to make too much noise on the iron grids below. 

He had just reached the hallway leading to the kitchen when two guards stepped around the corner. Shit! He ducked behind the locker holding a fire extinguisher. It would only be a matter of time before they discovered him. The boy held his breath and shut his eyes. Just a few more steps. The footsteps came to a halt and he heard the squeaking of a door being opened. The guards mumbled something and started… kissing!? The lad peeped around the corner. Those guards were genuinely kissing and stroking each other. After a few kisses the two men entered the staff room together and closed the door. The lad left his hiding place confused about what he just witnessed. He had heard stories about things like this before but had never seen it himself. 

“Curious,” he whispered to himself “so it does exist. Anyway, let’s not dilly-dally and get out of here.” 

The young prisoner arrived at the courtyard. From the shadows he observed the guards patrolling the prison’s outer wall. If he managed to reach the outer wall unseen he still had to get over it. Let’s see. If he stood next to the wall the wardens on top couldn’t see him. But then he wouldn’t be able to climb over the wall itself. When the guards were walking to the wall on his left they would be able to see him climbing. Think Hersh, think. He was small compared to the other prisoners so he might be harder to spot. However, it was a relatively clear night. In other words he had to climb the wall when the guards were still on it but he had to get over the wall when they were moving away.

The lad climbed the wall as only the most desperate criminals could, using every single foothold possible even if it were just the space between bricks. It put an incredible strain on the bruises left by the whip, he grunted, if he could only reach the top of the wall… Suddenly his left hand slipped from the slippery wall leaving him with only his right hand hanging to a tie bar. The sudden force exerted on one side of his body almost made shout out in pain. He tried to get a hold of the wall with his left hand. Swinging like this was excruciating, but he had to try, he had to get out. Finally he found a small ridge just to his left. He took a quick few breaths and climbed further. It was not far to the top now. Carefully scanning the surrounding walls for guards he raised himself on the wall. When he lowered himself down the outer wall and dropped himself on the grass outside he couldn’t feel more relieved. He was free again.

He had traveled about half a mile when he heard alarm bells going off. His escape was discovered.


	15. Pursuit.

A young man ran over the bleak moor, his feet breaking the thin layers of ice that formed over puddles, leaving the swampy peat exposed to the cold winter air. The young prisoner stooped to catch his breath, he didn’t know where to go, the area was unfamiliar to him. The sound of bloodhounds echoed between the stone tors. The lad looked behind him. They were chasing him down with hounds. He racked his brain, what did the other street boys tell him about hounds again? No time to waste, he had to come up with a plan when running. 

He came across a shallow gully. He had no choice but to wade through. The icy water stole away his breath. As he climbed over the bank he felt his mind go hazy with the cold.  
What was it the other street urchins had taught him about sniffing dogs? A father had managed to escape from police dogs by running in a certain way.  
His soggy shoes scraped against his skin.   
The man had boasted about it a lot at the pub. “I can tell ya that I thought school was just a load of tosh, but it was arithme’ic that saved me arse.” Arithmetic… arithmetic… counting, multiplying… figures! That’s it the man had made his way in the shape of certain numbers. The dogs got confused when they tried to follow his tracks as they doubled up on themselves and had crossed each other. What he had to do was to do exactly the same.   
He sunk into deep thoughts. Which numbers fitted the bill, and what was the least amount of figures he had to remember?

Under his breath he mumbled to himself. ”One and nil are definitely not right as the one is just a straight line and with the nil I’ll keep running in a circle. The same goes for the seven and eight. No the numbers should be a bit more open shaped.”

Suddenly he stood still, his face split by a mischievous grin. “That’s it! I only need two figures to run in. The four fitted the bill perfectly as did the six and nine. However, the six and nine were basically the same number, only upside down.”

The escapee turned and looked at the direction he came from. He could already see the lights of his pursuers’ torches shining over the fell. But he didn’t fear them anymore.

“They look a bit dim.“ he said to himself. A strange light shone from his eyes. “How about a little puzzle to brighten their mind?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to experiment with putting the puzzle element of the game in the story. 
> 
> Once on the Mythbusters, I think, there was some technique that gives someone who is chased by people with dogs the opportunity to temporarily confuse them by "running in fours". If I remember well it would confuse the dog because it created multiple of directions to which the hunted person could have run to.


	16. Sheep

The young escapee lost track of how long he had been on the run. The sweat and the water from the gully had made his prison clothes heavy and cold. He had shaken off his pursuers with his clever list, but he knew he had to hide somewhere to… get some sleep.  
He looked around over the moor. It wouldn’t be long before dawn, the sky already seemed a bit brighter to the east. By daylight he would be an easy target, he had to find some kind of shelter.

After searching for a quarter of an hour or so he found an old stone structure. It looked as if it had been some kind of hut in past times. Some sheep were sleeping in the nearby surroundings. The lad shivered from the cold as he entered the tiny building to inspect its inside. From what he could see it didn’t look too bad; sure there were sheep droppings lying about and even some sheep, but there was also plenty of hay and these sheep might provide a bit of warmth. The young prisoner crouched further inside and made a sleeping place for himself with hay he found in the cot. His exhaustion did the rest and he quickly drifted away in a dreamless sleep while he was warmed by the breaths and flanks of the sheep.

Day came and the boy slept blissfully through it. Even when the sheep went out for grazing on the fell he didn’t wake up. It was only that evening that he woke up to pursue his flight. And as it happened that night fate struck.

The boy was woken up by the ringing of the sheep’s bells and the barking of the sheepdog. Wait a minute… sheepdog? The lad was fully awake now. A sheepdog meant a Shepherd was nearby, and if the dog would sniff him out he would be in big trouble. He quietly stole to the farthest end of the small room. At that moment the first sheep entered the cot.   
Ack, no! , a big ewe laid down right on top of him. Luckily for him though, the ewe was more wool than sheep, so at least he didn’t get totally squashed.   
Bwaah, big fluffs of wool were pushed in his face. He silently sputtered, spitting out tuffs of wool. If the wool kept tickling his nose like this he would have to snee…

“Achoo!” The sheep darted off in all directions. The dog started barking. The lad pinched his nose to prevent himself from sneezing again, but the damage had already been done.  
No sooner had he tried to stand up as he was faced by the dog. The big collie had entered the cot snarling. It menacingly walked up to the young man, ready to leap at his throat. The lad froze and felt something warm tickling down his leg. He had just soiled himself. 

Before the dog could launch at him the shepherd burst into the small building. As soon as he his eyes fell on the young prisoner he grabbed him by his small tuff of hair and dragged him outside.

“What do you think you are doing here?”” he barked. The man’s face grew red when he saw that the intruder wore prison clothes. He lifted the lad up by the collar leaving the prisoner’s feet to dangle above the ground. 

“Thought you could steal some sheep? It is all your fault I can’t let me herds graze on the best stubs as these are being kempt through by prison folks.”

"Please sir," the boy pleaded, "I only need shelter and a place to sleep. I'll leave the moment I wake up. You'll never see or hear of me again. I promise.”

“And getting arrested for helping scum like you?” the shepherd spat at the boy with a disgusted look, “I’d rather die defending me heard than doing that.”  
He threw the boy on the ground not caring for his safety or even doing as much as blinking when the lad wheezed in pain when his body hit the floor in front of him. He threateningly walked up to the boy,“You let me sheep escape,” he added. “ I’ll make you pay for that.” He pulled something from behind his back which the lad recognised as a shotgun. “By the way, the warrant didn’t say they needed you alive.”

Before the shepherd had the chance to load the gun, the lad ran off in a desperate attempt to get away. The dog immediately chased after him and sunk is teeth into his leg. The lad stumbled trying to fight off the dog. This gave the man the chance to load his weapon. The prisoner kicked the dog in the nose and legged it. All in vain.

Seconds later a loud bang echoed over the desolate moor along with a piercing scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the people who helped me out on improving this chapter.   
> It was greatly appreciated.


	17. Found

Two days later a hansom cab was driving down one of England’s many bridleways. The setting sun revealed two middle aged men driving it. 

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me out, Roland old chap. Tell me how I can repay you.” Said the man in the bowler hat.

“Andrew, how often do I have to tell that it is absolutely no problem to help you out?   
It’s what old comrades do after all.” Spoke the bearded man shrugging. “By the way, how was this congress in Exeter, discussed anything interesting? “

“Ah well, most of it is absolute rubbish, but there was an interesting lecture about Romans and stone circles.”

“You aren’t going to tell me that you archaeologists believe those old folktales, are you?” 

“Ha ha, of course not Layton. It was about whether the Romans had part in their abandonment and destruction or not. You see near Rollright…”

The man with the bushy beard smiled while listening to his friend ramble on about archaeological theories. 

“By the way, Roland, didn’t you grow up in Stansbury? “ the shorter man asked.

“I did, why? Was the Wall of Norwell discussed?”

“Professor Rutledge presented his new book about ancient civilisations and the wall played an important role in it. I of course, immediately bought the book only to discover that despite years of research they still don’t know anything about it.” Both men laughed.

Mr Layton dried his tears. “Oho, Why am I not surprised. I remember that we had to chase some amateurish diggers out because they tried to excavate the wall using dynamite. You guess us villagers weren’t too happy when we discovered that.”

“You still miss Stansbury?“

“Of course I do. You see I am planning to move back after finishing my business here. Speaking of business. Andrew, you want to see a stone circle yourself?“

The two men parked the wagon and walked up the hill.

“As you can see Andrew, the stone circle is actually c-shaped with its opening facing south.”

“Hmm, yes. I suppose it has something to do with the path of the sun.”

The two walked around a bit. Dr Schrader poked around here and there and casually made some remarks. Suddenly he was silenced by his friend. 

“Shhh, did you hear that?”

They listened again.

“it sounds a bit as if crows are attacking something.” 

“Not only that, but do you also hear some… moaning?”

“Do you think we need to look what is going on?” The other man nodded in response.

As the two men came closer to the source the moaning grew louder. Some crows were fluttering near a close thicket. Roland brushed the thicket aside and Schrader gasped at the at the sight of what was going on behind the bushes. A small figure in prison clothing lay on the ground surrounded by crows. The black birds made attempts attacking the bleeding figure. The boy weakly tried to move and scare them off but was no match for their sharp bills.

“Good heavens, Andrew!” exclaimed Mr Layton as he shooed the crows away. “Is he even still alive?”

Dr Schrader felt the prisoner’s pulse. “I can faintly feel a heartbeat, he'll need medical attention quickly.”

Roland turned the prisoner on his back to study his face. “It’s hard to see with this dirt, but he’s probably the escaped prisoner we were warned for. How long has he been here in a state like this?”

"I think those policemen mentioned he was last seen two days ago. He must be nithered." Dr Schrader took off his coat and lay it over the boy, “Here sonny, this will keep you warm.”

The two carefully picked him up and made their way back to the cab. The boy was laid in the back of the wagon.

“Gosh, he looks so young.” Sighed Mr Layton.

By the time the two men made their way to the Laytons’ residence night had already fallen. The Laytons lived in a cottage were the village stopped and the countryside began. It was therefore that no one saw the two men carrying a small figure to the house.

Mr Layton banged on the door with his free hand. “Lucy open up, we’ve got someone who needs help, now!”

As soon as his wife opened the door the two friends hurried inside carrying the prisoner by his shoulders and feet. Mrs Layton looked at the small person in shock. The boy’s face was deadly pale, his breathing being quick and shallow. His beady brown eyes stared absently in the distance.

“No time to explain. He immediately needs medical attention.” said Mr Layton as they laid him on the couch. 

Mrs Layton felt the lad’s pulse. She gently touched the boy’s back where his shirt was all torn and bloody. He winced and cried out in pain. The cause of his suffering couldn’t be missed; tiny shiny balls of iron were stuck in his flesh.

“Take him to the kitchen and lay him on the table.” said Mrs Layton as she tried to calm the whimpering creature down. “Get some clean towels and prepare a bowl of hot water. I’ll fetch the medical instruments and chloroform.”

Removing the prisoner’s shirt proved to be difficult and painful as the clotted blood made it stuck to the boy’s skin. It was no wonder that Mrs Layton decided to sedate him before she even started the operation. 

“Turn him on his back and hold him down.” She ordered the two bearded men as she poured a smelly substance on a rag. She turned to her patient. “We’ll have to put you to sleep, luv. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.” She covered the boy’s nose and mouth with the rag. 

The boy tried to fight but was held down by the two strong men. His wild eyes darted around in panic when he smelt the sickly sweet scent of chloroform. Red rings and black spots started to form in his vision. 

“That is right dear, take some good deep breaths. You’re doing great, we are nearly there.” was the last he heard before drifting away in unconsciousness.


	18. Mrs Layton

Every day Lucille Layton checked up on her young patient. As an army nurse she had seen injuries like this before. Still she was shocked by the state of her patient’s back.   
The wound had become infected. But that wasn’t what most disturbed her. No, what disturbed her most were the welts and dark bruises that indicated that this young lad had been flogged.   
The infection had caused the boy to contract a high fever and he began experiencing fever dreams. One night he had woken up screaming. In his delirium he had caught hold of Mr Layton’ nights clothes and refused to let go. Only when the two had calmed the whining thing down, he had loosened his grip on the fabric. It was from then on that Mrs Layton decided to give the poor beggar some sedatives till the worst of his fever was over.

This morning too she entered the guest room with all necessities for treating the wounds.  
She walked to the bed and put her plate down on the dresser. 

“Good morning dear.” She whispered as she slightly opened the curtains to allow a small beam of sunlight to come in. “I’ll take a look at your back if you don’t mind.”   
Lucille always spoke to her patients as she knew it might comfort them if they knew what she was doing. The unconscious ones were no exception.  
She took of the bandages and rolled her patient on his side to have a good look. Splendid, the wounds and bruises were healing nicely. She soaked some cotton wool in iodine.

“All right love, I’m now applying some iodine to your wounds. This may sting a bit.” 

The boy flinched and groaned as the nasty stuff touched his skin. Though he didn’t protest as the unknown woman put on some fresh dressings. When she tilted his body to fasten the linen she saw the boy had woken up. He blinked as he inspected his strange new surroundings.  
Mrs Layton felt his forehead. It was much less warm and sweaty than last nights. She took the thermometer form the dresser and showed it to the confused boy.

“I’d like to take your temperature, is that all right?” she asked. The boy answered her question with a glassy look but didn’t seem to mind. She put the thermometer in his mouth. “Hmm, 37.7, “ she read. “Not bad at all, glad you got rid of that nasty fever.”  
She placed the instrument back on the tray. Just as she was about to get up and to pick up the tray, the boy placed his hand on hers.

“Don’t go.” He begged with a husky voice.

Hesitant she sat down again on the chair next to the bed. He gently squeezed her hand. “Please… don’t go.” It sounded more desperate now. 

“It’s all right dear.” she said and she softly petted his hand.

“Where, why?” He was still completely dazed by the sedatives.

“You were injured outside, my husband brought you here. You were lucky to survive.  
What is it? You look pale!”

“Head… hurts, s-sick.”

Lucille grabbed the chamber pot. Just in time, the prisoner vomited in the basin. Ashamed he looked away.

“S-so… Sorry… I…”

Mrs Layton made him stop. It’s all right, pet. It’s perfectly normal to feel sick after what you’ve been through. You’ll feel better after you slept off the anaesthetics.”  
She tucked the boy back in and caressed his head. The boy relaxed a bit but kept watching her through the slits of his eyes as if he was afraid that she might vanish if he fully closed them. Mrs Layton saw what he did.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay here till you wake up, I promise.”


	19. Questioning

It didn’t take long or the prisoner regained enough strength to sit up and speak. Time was ripe for the Laytons to ask him some questions.

Mr Layton was the first to speak.   
“Good to see your health improved. We haven’t introduced each other yet. My name is Roland Layton and this is my wife Lucille. And who might you be?”

“Prisoner 109HZ, Sir. The same number as printed on my shirt. The people of London, though, know me as the Leopard.”

“We are more interested in your name. Don’t tell me you don’t have one. ”

109HZ hesitated. “They took my name and gave me a number. It wasn’t even my real name they took. I am not sure about it anymore, but in my oldest memories I was called Hershel.”

Roland frowned. “What about your parents? Surely they must be worried sick about you.”

“I don’t have parents. Never knew them.” his voice broke, “They are either dead or don’t care.” he paused to swallow, “The police found me abandoned in a house, totally neglected, they sent me to an orphanage.”

The coupled staggered. “We are so sorry to hear that.”

“Never mind, no one ever cared.”

There was an uneasy silence, which was finally broken when Mrs Layton spoke.

“When you were brought in, you were heavily injured. Can you tell us what happened?”

“I-I escaped, they came after me with hounds.” The prisoner’s expression changed from a pained to an excited one. “I managed to shake them off by running in figures you see. I hid myself to rest but was discovered and…” He hesitated and looked down “the last thing I remember is a loud bang and my back feeling as if it were torn apart. After that everything is a blank.”

“You were shot in the back with bird shot. It took me one-and-half hour to take everything out,” Mrs Layton took a bowl from the dresser and showed its contents to her patient, “You must have been out there for a few days as the wounds had already started to fester.”

The boy looked at the bowl’s content. Dozens of tiny iron balls were lying at the bowl’s bottom emitting a sickening shimmer.

“You were lucky my friend and I found you,” added Mr Layton “you wouldn’t have survived another night out there… Is something wrong?”

The prisoner was looking around anxiously.

“My uniform, where did you leave my uniform,? I’ll be in so much trouble if it’s gone.”

“Those old rags?” asked Mrs Layton, “We burned it as it was all torn and bloody.”

“You don’t understand. I’ll be flogged for destroying government property.”

The couple looked each other in the eye. 

“There were welts and bruises on your back. Did they flog you before?”

He stiffened and eyed them uneasily.   
“I…”

“It’s alright, you can tell us.”

“They did, it was the reason I escaped. Please, you have to believe me, I am not dangerous!”

“Can I ask you something, Hershel?” asked Mr Layton “What is it you are in prison for?”

The lad looked away. “I prefer not to say.”

“right then.” Mr Layton stood up and walked to the door. “Oh, one last thing,” he said as he turned around “how old are you, if I may ask?”

“I turned fourteen in January, Sir.” 

“I see… I’ll bring you something to read and be off to buy you some new clothes. Try to rest a bit and don’t worry, you’ll not be sent back before you’re properly healed.”

“Thank you Sir.”


	20. A relaxing evening

Hershel strengthened quickly with the accompanying appetite. He ate like a wolf, both in the literal and figural sense. One Sunday evening the Laytons were having a steak pie for supper. They had invited their guest to join at the table.  
Hardly had Mrs Layton dished the piping hot food up or he grabbed the food with his hands and shoved it in his mouth.  
“Be careful boy, it’s still pip… Christ boy! What are you doing it’s ho…” but it was already too late.

Minutes later the boy stood hunched under the tap.

“Ow ow, it hurts. Why didn’t you say it was hot?”

“I tried to warn you but you already shoved everything in before I was even halfway through my sentence. Serves you right for being such a greedy gobble gannet. And what were those table manners supposed to be?”

“I tried to eat my food before anyone could steal it. I didn’t know the pie was so bloody hot.”

“Gosh, you behaved like a beast. For God’s sake, Roland, stop grinning like that! This is not a laughing matter.”

“Ho, hum. You’re right Lucy, but you have to admit there is some kind of humour in this situation.”

“Don’t listen to him, Hershel. He is not such a big hero himself. You see when I first met him I was a nurse quartered in an army camp 50 miles east of Mossina.”

“Please Lucy, don’t embarrass me in front of the boy.”

“Anyway, he was a famous explorer on his way to seek out some lost city but he got wounded in a tiger attack. The tiger had bitten in his leg which had to be sewn. I got my thread and needle ready when this big lout over here started yelling at me. Turned out he got a splinter in his finger and was afraid I was going to take it out.”

“Which she did, the sneaky girl.”

“Only after I sewed you up, you idiot.” 

“I was afraid you were going to cut it off, what would a explorer be without an index finger.”

“If I didn’t intervene it surely would have dropped off by the time you and Andrew reached the next camp. You were in the tropics for Pete’s sake.”

The bickering couple was interrupted by a gurgling sound. They looked up to see Hershel laughing and sputtering as he tried to keep the water streaming in his mouth. Mr Layton smiled.

“Well, I suppose I might have a spare shilling or two. Perhaps I’ll get us some custard as dessert.”

If people were able to have taken a peek inside the house that night, they might have thought to have stumbled on an idyllic family scene. Mr and Mrs Layton had set themselves down in two comfortable armchairs. Their guest lay in front of the fireplace surrounded by books with a serious look on his face. Once in a while he turned a page in one of the books and started scribbling something on a piece of paper. Frustrated he crumbled the sheet into a ball and started again on a new sheet. Mrs Layton who was knitting looked up at him.

“What are you doing, Hershel? It looks like you are really making a study of something.”

Surprised Hershel looked up. “Huh? Oh, I’m trying to figure something out.”

“Tell us, perhaps we can help.” Said Mr Layton.

“During transport I heard a story about Romans turning into stone. Rubbish of course, but I want to know if there is some truth in it.”

“How are you going to research that?”

“I thought that at first I should find out if these stones were here earlier than those Romans. If they appeared around the same time or a bit later, there may be some connection between the two. If they appeared much later or earlier, well, then it is indeed just a silly legend. But I can’t find any evidence to either support or deny it."

“Ah, perhaps you shouldn’t be taking things too literally sonny. They say, after all, that people can get petrified by fear.”

“Meaning? “

“Think for yourself boy, and you may find the answer.”

“Petrified… frozen… Wait, you mean the whole legend is just based on a misconception? Of course, petrified sounds like Latin for rock and those legends were penned down in Pig’s Latin by monks. Those soldiers were petrified by fear in the figural sense, not the literal.”

“Exactly. How come you know the Latin word for Rock?”

“I looked it up in a book. Wanted to know what the text on a statue read.”

“You sound like a clever lad. You must have excelled at school.”

The boy looked sad. “Actually, I fail terribly at school. Learned nothing there, and got caned quite often as I grew bored and never completed anything.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Never mind, I always knew I would grow up to no good anyway. You…” he stammered and his eyes became wet “when I return to prison will the two of you… visit me sometimes?”

The Laytons were taken aback by this question. They had discussed moving earlier that day, but this would mean they wouldn’t have many possibilities to visit Hershel in prison.

“I am afraid we can’t promise that dear. But at the very least we can send letters.”

“Oh, I understand” disappointment seeped through his voice. “I know I’m asking too much but can I borrow a book so I have something to read in there?”

“Of course you can. You can pick one now if you want.”

“I’ll take a look, thank you.”

When Mrs Layton went to the kitchen to wash the tea cups her husband followed her. When they were out of earshot he told her this: 

“I asked an acquaintance of mine for some background information on Hershel. He sent me a part of his criminal record.“

“Is it bad?”

“It’s best if you read it for yourself.”

Mrs Layton took the sheets of paper and sat down to read them. Just by skimming through them she could make out this: 

Name: Leppardo Rainer alias: The Leopard.  
Aged: seven

Charge: Shoplifting.  
Location: Flatstone Street.  
Description: Culprit was caught red handed by shopkeeper while stealing from a jar of sweets.  
Sentence: sent back to his orphanage.

Charge: Pickpocketing.  
Location: Weighton Market  
Description: Band of street boys was discovered pick-pocketing people at the Market. When discovered they dispersed themselves among the crowds. Two were caught. 5 shillings were found on the culprit’s person.  
Sentence: 2 months of borstal.

Charge: Vandalism.  
Location: Multiple locations in Mayfair.  
Description: The neighbourhood suffered from an epidemic of windows being thrown in. Culprit was seen running from multiple scenes. He was apprehended later. Claimed to have been following up orders from a glass cutter. This could not be verified.  
Sentence: 20 strikes with a switch and three months of borstal.

“It’s quite a laundry list. Though it isn’t enough to describe him as dangerous, he seems more out of control at that age.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. I’m hoping to find out why he was sent to Black Fell. Only then we can make our decision wisely.”

When the couple returned to the living room. They found Hershel curled up on the floor. He had fallen asleep engrossed in the book he was holding in his arms. A smile covered his face.

“Gosh look at the poor thing,” sighed Lucille “such a pity he can’t stay.”

“A real shame. I dare say that under different circumstances he would have had a bright future in front of him.”

“He might still have, but things need to change quickly before it’s too late and he becomes a hardened criminal.” She looked at her husband, “do you think that Andrew…?”

Roland scratched his beard, ”I am not too sure, he does have the means, but he also has a busy job at a university, he may not have the time to give the boy the attention he needs.” 

Before the two left the room they covered the boy with a blanket so he stayed warm.

“Good night boy, hope you have good dreams.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter became longer than expected.   
> I had hoped to add some in between, but I didn't have the time for that. Perhaps that those may be added later.


	21. Chapter 21

Hershel was enjoying a good bath. The first time this was proposed to him he had looked at Mrs Layton as if she were mad. A bath soothing? There were few things he hated more than being stripped and getting a wash with icy cold water. He always tried to make such situations as brief as possible. He had protested being in need of a wash as most of his earlier experiences had involved strong hands grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and brushing his skin till it was raw.  
Mrs Layton wouldn’t have anything of it.

“Your wounds have sufficiently healed now. You need a wash, it won’t sting.”

“But it will be cold and I don’t want to brush my skin off now it’s healing.”

“Believe me dear, this will be different from earlier baths,” she said as she lead him in the bathroom.

And oh how different it was.   
Instead of a small tin tub a genuine bath tub was standing in front of him. The water in it was warm and foam was floating on its surface. The herby scent of lavender filled the room.

“Oh,” was all he could say.

Life was agreeable in this house. Yes, he had decided for himself, he could easily stay here.  
When time came he got out and put on his pyjamas.   
Even though he was drowsy from the warm bath he couldn’t fall asleep. It felt almost as if something was bothering him subconsciously. Was this his intuition at work again?  
Perhaps a visit to the loo would relieve him. 

As he crossed the landing on his way to the toilet he heard Mr and Mrs Layton talking in the living room downstairs. He didn’t take any notice of this as this was usual and it gave him a homey feeling.

When he returned tying the cords of his pyjama trousers he managed to overhear whiffs of the conversation downstairs.

“But he’s basically still a child. He still needs someone to take care of him.”

“He might still be a boy, but the fact remains that he escaped from Black Fell Prison.”

They were talking about him! He silently crouched closer to the stairwell to have a better ear at the conversation.

“I am fully aware of that dearest. People are not sent to that place for petty crimes.”

“It’s just hard to think of him being capable of doing such things when you see him reading or being lost in his thoughts again. He’s so inquisitive and eager to learn. He belongs in school, not in prison. But if I have to believe the search warrant in the papers…” 

“Do you believe he did that?”

“I don’t know Lucy, I honestly don’t know.”

The lad felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He staggered backwards while he could feel a lump of ice growing in his chest. They thought he was dangerous. He had to get away.


	22. Chapter 22

The clock struck twelve downstairs. Hershel got out of bed. He silently put on the clothes the Laytons had given to him. He didn’t put his shoes on tough as he didn’t want to make too much noise. He sneaked down the hallway. When he came past the Laytons’ bedroom he stopped to listen.  
They were fully asleep judging by their slow breathing. It gave him a peaceful feeling, but also made him feel sad. He did not want to leave.  
He tiptoed down the stairs while carefully avoiding that one squeaky step.

In the kitchen he rummaged through the cupboards looking for provisions and some money which he put in a sack. He was just tying his shoelaces when his eyes fell on the silver cutlery on the table. He could… Don’t even think about it, you are already ungrateful enough!  
On the other hand he would once run out of provisions and he needed money if he wanted to make a new start for himself. He pondered about this. He remembered Mrs Layton checking up on him earlier this night. She had thought he was vast asleep and caressed his hair that was just starting to grow back.  
A sudden flare of anger shot through him. It was all their bloody fault, dammit!. They were the ones who gave him false hope and pretended to care about him. They were the ones plotting to send him back! It still didn’t feel right to do this, but he had no choice. Racked with guilt he stashed the cutlery away in his sack and left through the back door.

Down the lane he looked back at the house that could have been his home with pain in his heart. One day he would repay everything, he promised… he promised.


	23. Chapter 23

“Honey, have you seen the cutlery?” asked Mrs Layton to her husband upstairs. 

“Probably where Hershel is,” answered her husband in a matter of fact way.

“What do you mean by that?”

The stairs creaked as her husband came down.  
“What I mean to say is that Hershel ran off and took it with him.”

***

For several days he had been on the run now. He was glad that the news of his escape from prison hadn’t reached these parts yet. Or at least his signalment didn’t. He felt in his bag for something to eat. Hmm only one slice of dry bread left. The lad walked into a nearby village looking for a shop, he had still some money left. When he walked out of the village shop two police officers walked up to him. They eyed him suspiciously. Hershel quickly grew uncomfortable. Keep calm Hersch, he thought in himself, they will probably ignore you if you keep calm and walk on. He glanced backwards. They were following him now. He sped up the pace, and so did they. No doubt now, they were after him.  
It took only a moment for the policemen to catch up with him. One of them placed his hand on the lad’s shoulder. 

“Woah there boy, we want to have a word with you.”

“ I didn’t steal anything from the shop, if that’s what you mean. I-I paid for everything.”

“We just want to have a look in that bag of yours.”

Hershel had no choice but to allow them. Denying would only make him more suspicious. Perhaps there was a small change that they would buy into his alibi.  
The policeman looked up from the bag’s contents. 

“I’m afraid we have to take you to the bureau, we hope you don’t mind.”

Too late to run now. He could only comply. Flanked by both officers he was escorted to the nearest police station. 

When the officers entered the building they went straight to the chief Constables’ office. 

“P.C.’s Milton and Keynes reporting for duty. We’ve apprehended the person you were looking for Sir.”

The Constable looked up from his writings. 

“Splendid work. Now bring him over.”

Hershel was sat down in front of the desk and cuffed. The policemen showed the sack to the Constable.

“The lad was carrying this bag, Sir, in it we found the items you told us about.”  
“Good work, I knew I could count on you two. Now if you leave the two of us alone for a moment.”

After the two officers had saluted and left the Constable closed the curtains and switched on a table lamp. He shone the lamp in his prisoner’s face. 

“In this bag my subordinates found items that match those stolen a few days ago. Can you explain how you got these?“

“I don’t know what you are talking about. I paid for the groceries, honest.”

The Constable took the cutlery out of the sack and held it in front of the young man.

“Then you can surely tell me how this got in there.”

The lad looked around nervously. There was no way he could wriggle out of this and the bright light of the lamp made his eyes water. 

“ These aren’t groceries. I dare to say the village shop doesn’t even sell tableware. Now, how did you get this?”

The lad swallowed. He had to come up with something. 

“A nice set of cutlery too. Sterling silver if I am not mistaken. Could be sold for a small fortune.” The Constable looked the prisoner in the eye. 

That piercing stare… pearls of sweat started to slide down his forehead.

“You look too young to earn enough to pay for this, and still here it is in your possession. Coincidently an identical set has been stolen only a dozen of miles away. And yet here you sit claiming that you bought this from a village shop, which doesn’t sell silverware.”

The Constable paced back and foreword in the room.

“A very unlikely story, don’t you think? I dare to say you…”

“I borrowed it!” exclaimed Hershel “It needed to be sharpened, so I borrowed it.”

With a satisfied look the Commissioner switched off the lamp.

“You are a bad liar, 109HZ.”


	24. Hershel Layton

Mr and Mrs Layton were sitting in the living room when they heard the door bell ring. Lucille answered the door. Hershel was brought inside by several policemen. When he noticed the couple, he tried to look away from their faces. 

The Constable greeted the them and handed them the sack.  
“We’ve found the boy you were looking for. As for the stolen cutlery, it was found in this bag…”

Mr Layton looked at the lad with a stern face.

“Thank you for your help, Constable. Now if you don’t mind we would like to have a word with him in private.”

Mr Layton, who had turned red in the face, grabbed Hershel by the ear as soon as they entered the kitchen.  
[As soon as they entered the kitchen Mr Layton, who had turned red in the face, grabbed Hershel by the ear.]

“All right boy, give us one good reason why we shouldn’t hand you in immediately.”

Hershel looked at his feet and stammered, “I-I don’t…” He could feel rage boiling up inside of him when he thought of the betrayal that made him run off, “I don’t have any good reason because you were going to hand me in anyway, weren’t you!”

The couple looked bewildered. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I overheard you myself, liars!”

“Enough!” shouted Mr Layton and he slapped the lad on the cheek. “For God’s sake, Hershel, we took care of you and this is how you thank us by stealing and slander?”

Hershel lay his hand on his reddening cheek. “At least you could have allowed me to flee.” he spoke softly. 

“Dammit boy, we weren’t going to send you back to prison Why don’t you understand?”

“Y-You weren’t?”

“Of course not. Not after what they did to you. But you have to promise me one thing: criminal behaviour will not be tolerated. One more trick like this and you’ll be send back within a split second.”

The three walked back into the hallway where Mr Layton spoke to the policemen.

“Everything has been sorted, gentlemen. You can free him now.”  
The policemen took off Hershel’s cuffs. He rubbed his wrists where the iron had chafed his skin.

Mr Layton turned to the Commissioner. “Is there any way I can thank you, Gilbert?”

“No problem, Roland, after all I still owned you a favour after you helped me on that difficult case.”

Roland reached for his back pocket and took some notes from his wallet. “I presume this is enough to ensure your men’s silence?” 

“They’ll be as silent as a grave, I can ensure you that.”  
The Commissioner turned towards the boy. “And for you 109HZ, or should I say Hershel, I wish you the very best with staying on the narrow path.”

After he said this the Commissioner saluted and left the house along with the two policemen.

Mr Layton lay a hand on Hershel’s shoulder. “Come boy, we have to show you something.” then led him to the living room. They sat down on the comfortable sofa as Mrs Layton served some tea. An awkward silence fell. Hershel took a sip from his cup but could barely swallow it. Why on Earth would they have something for him after what he had done? What would they even have to show him?

Mr Layton finished his cup and sat down next to Hershel. Lucille picked up a file from the desk, before sitting down and handing the file over to him.   
Hershel held it in his hands, not knowing what to do with it.

“What are you waiting for, boy? Read what it says.”

He opened the file and read the first words. His hands started to tremble.

“ Oh God, I-I didn’t know.” He hiccupped. He looked up when he felt two arms around his shoulders and for the first time in ages he cried tears of joy. His newfound parents pulled him in a warm hug.

“The night you ran off, you overheard us discussing your adoption. You probably heard the part concerning your past, we are so sorry it upset you.”

“Welcome home, Hershel Layton.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My special thanks go out to my friends who have supported me while writing this.
> 
> Other thanks go out to the people who gave good advise on what parts could have been written better, You know who you are.
> 
> Thank you all.

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is more than welcome.
> 
> When I played the first games, I thought Layton may have been taken in by Dr Schrader at a young age.  
> Due to the events in MM and AL I was wondering what Layton's life could have looked like if his brother was taken instead of him. This fanfiction is the result of combining both ideas.


End file.
